


Acts of God

by stone_cold



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Drunkenness, First Kiss, M/M, lil' bit of fluff, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 20:56:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7238209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stone_cold/pseuds/stone_cold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will and Hannibal get drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acts of God

**Author's Note:**

> Set during (and after) the final scenes of Naka-Choko when Hannibal cooks and Will provides the meat. With lots and lots and lots of wine.

...............................................................................................

Will arrived at Hannibal's house shortly after seven o'clock and was ushered straight through to the kitchen. Hannibal had been expecting him. Tonight Will played the role of hunter/gatherer, unpacking a feast of fresh vegetables and meat for Hannibal to prepare for dinner. Hannibal looks on as Will arranges the ingredients on the kitchen counter ... onions, red peppers, garlic, tomatoes and potatoes. The younger man slides a wax paper-wrapped package towards him, which Hannibal opens carefully. Inside rest two gorgeous cuts of meat, loin, if he's not mistaken. Will glances at him. 

'As promised, I provide the ingredients, you tell me what we should do with them.'

Hannibal studied the meat carefully, nostrils flaring as he took in its scent. He looked at Will, quizzically.

'What is it? Red meat, but only just. Veal? Pork, perhaps?'

Will smiled.

'She was a slim and delicate pig.'

The older man gazed at him momentarily, then returned the smile.

'I'll make you a pork lomo saltado. We'll make it together.'

...............................................................................................

The meal was superb, the meat tender and juicy, rice fluffy and perfectly cooked, the sauce of onions, peppers and tomatoes sublime. Hannibal had even included French Fries, which, given his delicate and demanding sensibilities, Will had not been expecting. Both men now lounged in comfortable seats before the fire in Hannibal's drawing room, nursing large glasses of wine. There had been lots of wine, more than they'd ever shared before - the evening had a celebratory feel that had prompted Hannibal to visit his cellar for a second time when they had demolished what was on the dinner table.

Will was definitely feeling it - his tongue felt heavy in his mouth and his head had a lightness to it that promised the mother of all hangovers next morning, but right now he didn't care. Right now, all he cared about was being here with Hannibal. In fact, it was fair to say that was all Will currently cared about ... period.

It hadn't been a lighting-bolt revelation or shocked conclusion, it had happened steadily, a growing fondness, affection, attraction. Will's father had once told him that the road to Hell was paved with good intentions, well, that was most certainly Will's current destination because he had fallen completely and irrevocably for his nemesis, The Chesapeake Ripper, the man he was supposed to trap and capture. 

And that had been the problem, you see. That was why he was meant to be here tonight, bearing gifts of flesh. To trap Hannibal. To make Hannibal believe that he had killed for him ... for them. How could Will ever turn such a gift of betrayal into one of love? The young man sighed deeply. He was tired, so very tired. And drunk. He tried to tune in to what Hannibal was saying, which wasn't easy because he was equally, if not more inebriated, than Will. And GOD how he loved to talk.

Hannibal fixed him with a steely gaze, his maroon eyes half-lidded and slow-blinking like a lizard on a hot rock.

'You're drunk, Will.'

The younger man raised his eyebrows and waggled his finger.

'As are you, Doctor Lecter. No more, no less. Even Steven.'

Hannibal chuckled. 'Maybe so. But I'm sober enough to know that meat wasn't pork, Will. What was it?'

Will sat forward in his seat and set his wine glass on the side table.

'It was long pig.'

Hannibal's eyes widen just a fraction and the look of pride and love on his face sets a fire in Will's groin. The older man opens his mouth to speak and Will groans inwardly - he feels a psychoanalysis approaching and frankly, he's too pissed to participate. He holds up his hand, stopping Hannibal in his tracks.

'Hannibal ... no. No psychoanalysis. You ... you can't reduce me to a set of influences, so don't read too much into this. I'm not the product of anything. Let's just say that I've given up good and evil for behaviorism.'

Hannibal sets down his wine glass with a triumphant flourish and points at Will, drunkenly.

'Hah! Then you can't say that I'm evil.'

'You're a destructive son of a bitch, Hannibal. I's ... it's the same damn thing.'

The younger man worries his tongue inside his mouth. Damn thing doesn't seem to want to cooperate, its like it has a mind of its own, slipping and sliding over his words.

Hannibal's expression is one of mock indignation.

'I categori... categolorically disagree. And stop slurring. You're slurring, Will.'

'You do, do you? Well ... you can't even shp ... speak properly, so your opinion is invalid ... its null and void and just ... dumb. And I'm not. No slurrin' here, darlin'.'

Hannibal shakes his head and tuts.

'Oh William. Dear, dear William. You can't say evil's just destructive. Storms are evil, if it's that simple. An .. and we have fire, and then there's ... there's hail 'n stuff. Underwriters lump it all under Acts of God.'

Hannibal got to his feet unsteadily, holding on to the back of the chair with one hand and gesturing towards the kitchen with the other.

'Was ... was that little piggy an act of God, Will? Was it?'

He staggered then, clutching his head. Will got to his feet, equally unsteadily, and moved carefully to where Hannibal stood swaying. He put his arm around the older man, taking some of his weight and walking him towards the staircase.

'S'ok ... s'ok Hanni. Lesh ... lets just get you to bed. The piggy can fend for itself.'

'You'll stay tonight? You're in no state to drive home, foolish boy.'

'Yeah ... promise. Promise I will.'

Will managed to manhandle Hannibal to his bedroom and opened the door, propping the drunk man against the wall.

'Mm ... going to bed now, Hanni. You be ok? I'll be ... you ... I'll see you in the mornin'.'

Will patted Hannibal on the shoulder and turned to walk away, but the older man grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

'Will ...'

'Huh?'

'Listen to me, this is important - really, really important. You must tell me now and please ... do not do me the discourtesy of lying to me. Did you really kill Freddie Lounds, or is this some trickery of Uncle Jack's?'

Will gazed steadily into Hannibal's eyes and saw so many things ... darkness ... death ... love ... fear. And he knew, just like he'd known earlier that day when he'd first discovered Freddie in his outhouse, as he had concluded shortly after coming up with this crazy idea of tricking Hannibal into thinking she was dead ... he knew that he could never lie to him. He didn't want to lie to him.

He sighed heavily, then slipped a hand into his coat pocket, removing a shocking-red lock of curly hair, tied with a white ribbon. He held it out to Hannibal.

'How's that for an act of fucking god?'

He was pretty sure Hannibal sobbed, just once, before pulling him closer and covering Will's mouth with his. The kiss was wet and unsure but oh god ...

Will wound his fingers in the older man's silky hair and kissed him back so hard that their teeth clacked together. And drunk as they were, they found their rhythm, mouths moving together, perfectly in sync, breathing in each other, saying more with kisses that words ever could. Their breathing was ragged now, kisses interspersed with gasps and whispers of adoration and desire. Their tongues twirled and danced together, urged on by an accompaniment of moans and sighs and their bodies writhed, the friction between them inflaming them both.

Here they were, two chaotic, destructive elements coming together, and that, Will Graham thought as he pushed Hannibal into the bedroom, kicking the door behind him ... that was as close to an act of god than he'd ever seen.

 

FIN


End file.
